Beautiful moon the murderer begins to sing
The thief takes off his mask to smell the heliotrope
A junkie steals asters from a rich man’s grave
And spreads them on the modest mound of his mother
A lone girl walks with moonlit haste in the shadow of
the maquiladoras
*
Pol Pot sleeps counting heaven’s lambs
His ex-wife is learning ikebana
*
A pretty boy dances naked in a cage
Twelve or thirteen he is brown and slender
He sings My father sold me to the hillside wolves
For a snort of the white dragon
*
The sky does not judge it’s black and starless
The geese squawking high must make their destination
*
The corpse of my love reappears in a dream
The corpse of my love unzips his own body bag
*
The monkey claps and claps his cymbals are tired
Prosperity decline what does it matter?
*
“A Death blow is a Life blow to Some”
Tell them Emily those woolly ministers
Chopin’s fingers play soft soft soft
Comforting the beasts and flowers
This poem originally ran in the December 2, 2010, issue of the magazine.